


It's Only Words

by levele3



Category: Doctor Who, Merlin (TV), Once Upon a Time (TV), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Cyborgs, F/M, Gen, Hockey, Musicals, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levele3/pseuds/levele3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first "collection." Here is where I will post the beginning of stories I have been working on (some for quite a while) I just have all these Ideas and it's so overwhelming sometimes. I've worked on all this stuff that no one has seen. I hope to add to some of these someday, get fuller stories out of them. In the meantime please enjoy. </p><p>1. Steampunk/Cyborg - Strange Magic AU<br/>2. The Hockey Mom- OUAT AU<br/>3. Stranger- Strange Magic AU (this one is now a full 3 part story)<br/>4. Alpha/ Omega AU- BBC Sherlock<br/>5. Enchanted- OUAT AU<br/>6. Entomology- Strange Magic AU<br/>7. Intermission- Sherlock/ Doctor Who/ Merlin crossover AU<br/>8. American Revolution AU- OUAT <br/>9. Werewolf AU- Strange Magic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steampunk/Cyborg - Strange Magic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog is a Cyborg, Marianne is the Princess of a steam powered nation. The two races have more in common then they thought. Young Princesses Marianne and Dawn witness the Cyborg Prince receive the love potion from Plum.

Marianne saw her first Cyborg when she was just ten years old, and she wasn’t even scared. Marianne and her younger sister Dawn were the princesses of a steam powered kingdom called The Meadows. They were a peaceful bunch who worked in harmony with nature and made allies with a human-hybrid race called ELFs (Evolved Life Forms). The Meadows shared a border with a land that could not have been more different than their own; a warrior race had settled there disrupting life in The Meadows. The Cyborgs were a metal loving, gas fueled society, made up of men who were part machine, making them natural enemies to the residents of The Meadows.

Marianne and Dawn had snuck away from the watchful eyes of their palace guards to visit the village priestess Plum. Plum was gifted with the ability to make all types of queer potions and useful remedies, her most famous being an all-powerful love potion. It was widely known that she would make the potion for anyone so long as they supplied her with a Primrose petal.

The Royal sisters watched from behind a tree as Plum darted to and fro mixing the complicated potion. In the end it was their giggling that gave them away.

“What do you think you girls are doing?” She asked, not overly stern but clearly disappointed.  

As Marianne was trying to think up a quick lie Dawn came out with the truth.

“We wanted to see you make the love potion” six-year-old Dawn cooed. “Is it true it’s for the Borgy Prince?”

Plum seemed to consider this for some time, the princesses were used to getting whatever they wanted even from her but this was a delicate and somewhat dangerous process not meant to be seen by prying eyes. A private affair to say the least, at last she had it.

“You may watch me make it, on one condition” Plum warned, “You must never ask me to make the potion for you. When you fall in love it must be with someone who will love you back. Love you for your true self. Love you for your faults and imperfections, not in spite of them.”

Her wise words fell on deaf ears and wide eyes, somewhere in there had been a ‘yes’ and that was all that mattered. The girls watched with rapt attention for the most part as Plum added several ingredients to her mixture of nectar and primrose petal. Dawn getting sidetracked by a butterfly caused quite a stir. At last it was finished and bottled and Plum held it out to show the girls.

Bewitched by the magic radiating from the potion Marianne leaned forward and kissed the bottle, the pink iridescent dust inside gave a faint spark of light before settling again.

“What was that for?” Plum asked the young princess.

“For luck” Marianne replied, that’s what her mother used to say when she kissed _her_ goodnight, ‘for luck’. It seemed fitting to the young girls’ mind that she should bestow the same gift on the potion.

Suddenly a horrendous buzzing noise filled the air and Plum was pushing the girls back into hiding.

“Is it ready?” asked an impatient snarl.

“Ye-yes Your Majesty” Plum stammered out.

“Good” the gruff voice replied snatching the bottle from Plum’s hand.

“Be careful with that” she warned, in the wrong hands the potion could have devastating effects. “Just remember what I told you, dust the one you love, stand in front, make sure you are the first thing she sees.”

The Cyborg Prince waved an annoyed hand in her direction as he gazed longingly into the depth of the glass dust-filled bottle. This was the key to his happiness. _She_ would fall in love with him at last! Never mind his mother’s coddling, _seventeen is too young, you should wait_. He was tired of waiting.

Marianne peeked around the trunk of the tree and was instantly in awe of the Cyborg Prince, she had never seen one so close before, her people not usually having much contact with the other race. He was tall, so much taller than any Meadow dweller, and the way his shiny silver armour caught the sunlight was distracting. She never saw his face but in years to come she would dream about a stranger in armour.

Without so much as a thank-you the Borg took to the air once more with long sharp propeller blades affixed to his back.

Marianne remembers thinking it was romantic, the Borg Prince being so in love with someone that all he wanted was them to love him black. That was the last time the two princesses saw Plum. Rumour quickly spread that her potion failed the Cyborg Prince and now she was his prisoner. In short order all the Primroses along the border were cut down a task that was repeated every year after. The logic being this: no Primroses, no potion, no potion, no love.


	2. The Hockey Mom- OUAT AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killian Jones comes face to face with the most ferocious creature in it's natural habitat, the Hockey Mom.  
> Once Upon A Time- Canadian AU

Killian rubs his hands together vigorously trying to keep the circulation going but his attempts are failing. Its bloody freezing in this old arena and Killian is only there because Jefferson couldn’t make it to his own daughter’s hockey game. Enter Killian Jones best friend of Jefferson Hatt and godfather to his daughter Grace. Grace is the only girl on her coed team this year, and it’s easy to spot her when she’s on the ice, her long blonde ponytail trailing down from her pink helmet is a dead give-away. Killian does a little jig, now trying to get blood back into his feet, he is standing at ice level, behind the goal net because he can never remember which side is home and which is away.

He is minding his own business when a woman comes rushing past holding on to two trays of Tim Horton’s’ coffee cups and balancing a package of Timbits. It’s the fiercest creature in its natural habitat, The Hockey Mom.

Killian’s eyes follow the blonde woman as she barrels up the stands to his left and divvies out the cups to four other adults, and one child. She immediately begins cheering for a boy who’s on the same team as Grace as he skates away from the bench. Today the Story Brooke Stars are taking on the Baskerville Hounds, it’s only second period and the Stars are up two nothing.

“Whoo, go Henry” her shout is loud enough to be heard by Killian, but he doubts the boy on the ice can hear his mother’s shout. The back of his jersey reads H. Mills, number 28. Killian doesn’t have to know the woman to know her type, as a single dad Jefferson has hold him all the horror stories of trying to get picked up by women just like this one. Her ringtone is probably the theme to _Hockey Night in Canada_. He scoffed before looking back at the game, trying hard to figure out what was going on.

Moving to Canada had not magically made Killian suddenly know everything about hockey, he still preferred to watch rugby, or football (what Americans called soccer), nor was he egger too. What he did know was this, Grace played defence, because between her and Jefferson, Killian had been told at least two dozen times. The end that Killian was currently standing at was where the Stars’ goalkeeper was currently posted, A. Booth number 3, who for a twelve year old made some fairly decent saves. Finally, Killian knew that Hockey Mom’s ruled the world, they took the title mamma bear to new extremes.

Booth stopped another goal attempt and the home side roared in applause. Killian found himself searching out the blonde woman in the crowd. She was smiling and laughing with her friends, Killian was thinking about going to sit with them when someone blew an air horn, right beside his ear. Killian’s ears are ringing and he turns around to _kill_ whoever’s just done that, and he is not surprised at all to see Jefferson standing there a huge, if evil, grin on his face.

“You bastard” Killian hisses low, he’s not allowed to swear aloud with so many children nearby.

“You made such an easy target, not paying attention” Jefferson jibed, “what had you so occupied?”

Killian quickly darts a look back at the blonde and Jefferson follows his sight line.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Jefferson blanched.

“What?” Killian asked all surprised innocence.

“That’s Emma!” Jefferson said meaningfully.

“Who?” Killian asked, still confused.

“Emma, Emma Swan, the woman I tried to set you up on date with when you first moved here and you were all ‘but Mia was my soulmate and I’ll never fall I love again’” Jefferson huffed out.

“Oh” Killian looks up at the woman again and Jefferson presses a coffee cup into his hand. He thinks it might be time to let Jefferson introduce him to this woman, Emma.


	3. Stranger- Strange Magic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne and Bog meet in a club, when he gets her back to his place things don't go exactly as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can see me adding more to this sooner rather than later. I already have so much planned for this.

Marianne tangled her fingers in the stranger’s short coarse hair as their tongues, teeth, and lips engaged in fierce battle. _Roland had never let her run her fingers through_ his hair _when they made out, too afraid of ruining his perfect golden locks_. It was becoming difficult to breathe as he restlessly thrusted his hips against her and she could feel his arousal through her dress. His large hands skimmed up and down her thighs and she relished the moments his nails scratched along the bare skin there. _Fuck, she was so wet_. The heat had flooded her early on when lips had barely begun to brush against one another. Now she was regretting the decision to go without panties. Her thighs slid together as the wet heat leaked out and she wished those long cleaver fingers trailing up her legs would go a little higher, sneak under the hem of her dress and find the waiting warmth there. She would offer no resistance if the strange man with bright blue eyes made such a bold move.

 _His eyes_. They had caught her looking from across the room. She had been sitting at the bar drinking away the memory of Roland and his cheating taking in the other members of the _Lonely Hearts Club_ and found tall, dark, and mysterious holding up the wall on the opposite site of the club. She watched him for several long minutes waiting to see if anyone else approached him. When it became apparent he was there alone she stared a little more. The intensity of that first look had her melting.

Now they were outside the same club, frotting against one another and the brick wall, the full moon their only witness. It felt _so_ good as her back arched under his exploring touches. Their kisses were becoming sloppy and their thrusting frantic. Marianne let her fingers fall from his head and dig her nails into his shoulders as he broke the messy kiss to nuzzle at her pale neck. Any air still in her lungs gushed out in a single huff as lips brushed against the sensitive spot. It was a good thing her legs were hooked securely around his waist because she might have collapsed had she been standing.

They are both breathing heavily his harsh shuddering pants the only thing she can hear.

“I-I don’t live too far from here, if, if you’d rather do this somewhere m-more-” she breaks off his babbling by recapturing his lips.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner” she replies coly catching his eye.

His eyes are nearly all black with lust, nothing but a faint blue ring remains, and _his voice_ , when he had spoken had been a deep rumble. Although his voice had been rough with want there was still something hesitant about it, almost shy, as if he expected her to say no. The gleaming twinkle he is giving her now is worth it as they walk out of the alley and up the street together.

She’s only ever been with Roland. Roland who cheated on her, who lied to her, whose tender caresses was nothing but false promises. She craved the touch of someone else; she needed to erase the memory of too soft hands. She had never thought herself the type for one night stands but as she had vowed to never fall in love again she would willingly embrace the stranger for tonight.

If, on the walk over, she had imagined they would crash through his front door in a tangled mess of limbs trying desperately to divest one another of clothing well she didn’t let her disappointment show when that wasn’t the case.

The walk from the club had cooled their lust. Heated stares had given way to awkward conversations. Marianne now knew his name was Bog and after being set up on a slew of bad first dates had given up on the idea of ever finding someone to love. Marianne in turn confessed about her cheating fiancé and how she guarded her heart now. They both had their insecurities about love, but this wasn’t love. It was just a hook-up.


	4. Alpha/ Omega AU- Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was my attempt at an Alpha/Omega AU for BBC Sherlock.

John Watson stood outside the closed door of the student placement room trying not to listen to the angry voice raging away within, eavesdropping is rude.

“I am not supposed to have a roommate, I don’t want one” the voice growled in reply to an unheard statement.

John was patiently waiting for his turn to find out what room he had been assigned to. He was getting tired of lugging his bags around the vast campus of Saint Bartholomew’s Academy. John looked up and down the long bland hallway; it was void of all other lifeforms, no doubt in hiding due to the ruckus.

The wall opposite John was decorated only with the pictures of past headmasters and he stepped closer to inspect a few directly opposite him. Row after row of stern looking Alphas lined the wall until a warm round faced woman, hair pulled back from her face in a high bun, and keen eyes met his gaze. She was pretty, John mused, in the way older woman sometimes were. John guessed she must be in her early to mid-forties, the black and white photo forever capturing her in that moment. The plaque underneath read: JHW Scott W Headmistress 1920-1935.

It wasn’t until much later John would realize he shared initials with the first Omega head of St. Bart’s, and what that meant for his future.

At the time he was rudely pulled from his inspection of the bright-eyed woman from the past as the door behind him slammed violently against the ancient brick wall and the cause of the angry voice stormed out into the hallway.

John jumped at the sudden intrusion, a guilty look surely pasted across his freckled face, even though he’d not done anything wrong. The teen in the hallway was much taller than John, his head haloed by curly black hair, and his lean frame was draped in a long wool coat.

The teen’s back was turned to John; he probably didn’t even know he was there, as he continued shouting abuse at the poor bloke within the student services room.

“Fix it Mike, fix it!” the gangly youth demanded before storming down the hall, and around the corner, his long coat billowing out behind him.

John stood unmoving in the hall for several long minutes before being pushed into action by the need to sit down when his leg twitched with a sharp pain. After the lengthy journey to the country side where St. Bart’s was located John was weary.

“Is now a bad time?” John asked, poking his head in the office door and startling the timid man behind the desk.

“N-no” he stammered, “come in.” The man gave a weak smile as he beckoned John into the room who entered visibly limping as he dragged his cases behind him. John noticed the man’s trembling hands as he gingerly leafed through a giant leather bound book. He wore a plain name tag that read: Mike.

“Name?” he asked, marginally composed.

“Watson, John” John replied.

“Okay, you are in the Baker Building” Mike said as he dragged his finger down a long list of names. “Room…” here he faltered, “room twenty-one” he choked out at last, “on the second floor.”

“What’s wrong with room twenty-one?” John asked, his senses putting him on high alert. He wasn’t stupid; he could tell something was up from the shifty way the Omega behind the desk was acting.

“Nothing is wrong with the room _per se_ ,” Mike answered truthfully his voice still a little shaky, “It’s just your roommate might be the biggest prick on campus.” Mike found he couldn’t lie, not to this fresh faced youth with bright blue eyes. So eager to learn, he had to warn him.

“He can’t be worse than that bloke” John said with confidence, pointing his thumb in the direction of the door. Some people’s ability to be rude never ceased to amaze John, who was brought up to always use his manners.

Mike shrugged in answer, this nice young man would find out soon enough. He found sudden interest in his steaming mug of coffee and John took his leave with a map of the campus in hand.

A good forty minutes later and John was finally dragging his case down the second floor hall of the Baker Building, checking the little brass numbers on the doors. It was the oldest dormitory on campus, built in the late 1700’s when the school first opened. For over 100 years St. Bart’s had been a school exclusive to wealthy Alpha’s, and John, felt privileged to be able to attend.

About four paces down the hall the shouting started again. John could tell it was the same teen who had left Mike’s office in a furious state.

“Mycroft, finally” the youth now sounded exasperated. “It _is_ important!” he pleaded, “they’ve made a mistake.” To John it sounded like the whine of a child used to getting his way, who was suddenly denied something.

Preoccupied, John walked right past the door that was wide open. It’s occupant pacing the room in long violent strides.

The next door John came to was shut its dull numbers marked it 23, whipping his head to the right John noticed the room across the hall was 22, that meant… John looked back at the open door with shock and mild fear as the mad shouting continued.

“How _dare_ you go behind my back and make that decision! Good for me? You though it would be good for _me_? Well you thought wrong!” the angry voice continued.

The much abused mobile phone was sent flying out the open door of 21 and smashed against the wall opposite, missing John by mere centimeters.

John cautiously peeped his head around the door on the lookout for any other projectiles. When no other airborne electronic devices passed him John was sure it was safe to enter the dorm room, which looked like a warzone. Thick leather-bound textbooks and stacks of paper were piled high all around the room. A jackknife was firmly wedged in the wall holding in place a rather battered looking wallchart. A, possibly, human skull sat on the window sill grinning manically at John from his perch, and the tall youth with wild hair was nowhere to be seen.

 _How odd_ thought John, the teen hadn’t left the room, where could he have gone on such short notice?

There was no way to tell what side of the room might have been intended for John. Neither of the beds was made, although several once neatly folded blankets were piled on the left bed, while the bed on the right had glass flasks and beakers, of numerous shapes and sizes all carefully laid out.

Dorms had only become available to move in two days ago and John wondered how in the world one person could have made such a huge amount of mess in such a short time. John heard someone clearing their throat behind him and swiveled around to confront the room’s other occupant as he walked out of the closet on the left side of the room through a door John hadn’t noticed before. He was wearing nothing but blue silk pyjama bottoms and matching dressing gown.  

A pale expanse of skin was visible from neck to navel, skin John was sure had never met sunlight. His own arms were still tanned a dark earth tone from working outside all summer.

“Don’t bother unpacking” came the voice, sharp and demanding, “you won’t be here long.”

At long last the two teens made eye contact, and John had to look away from that intense blue-gray stare. His opponent was confidant, used to getting what he wanted. He was so obviously Alpha. It put John on the defense.

“My apologies” said John, lowering his head, just a smidge, “Student services sent me up, I was under the assumption I was meant to be staying here.”

Almost instantly Sherlock regretted his abrasive action, this man was so obviously an Omega. His willingness to submit only confirmed Sherlock was acting Alphaish. He dropped his shoulders, minimizing his height, “I’m sorry, it’s just, I’m not used to having to share my space. My older brother went behind my back and doctored my application to ensure I would receive a roommate.” He confessed. He knew what it was like to be bullied sometimes it was hard not to do it to others, but this boy deserved none of that.

“Why would he do that?” John asked, a crooked smile snaking its way across his face, and playfulness hueing his voice. The other boy wasn’t so tough after all, just putting up a front.

“Because he’s a prick” was Sherlock’s blunt response.

At that John’s smile broke free, and the boy reflected it back at him.

“You can start unpacking; no one is coming to take you away.” Sherlock said, being the one to break eye contact this time. “I’m Sherlock Holmes by the way” Sherlock said, suddenly remembering his manners, and extending his hand. Living with another Omega wouldn’t be so bad.

“Watson, John Watson” John said taking the proffered hand, “Now which bed is mine?” he asked looking for an empty square in the other wised cramped room. Living with another Alpha wouldn’t be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to have a past/ present thing to it where Sherlock and John's ancestors had been at the school before them. Sherlock's component was a male Alpha named William Sherlock Scott and John's was a female Omega named Johanna Helen Watson. John was to find her diary and figure out the shared past. Because of a 'defect' Johanna couldn't bare children but William fell in love and married her anyway. Johanna eventually became the first Omega head of St. Bart's.


	5. Enchanted- OUAT AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a mix of a bunch of different things, I called it my D&D AU but that's not quite right either. Takes place in a version of the cursed Enchanted Forest. Emma is an Enchanter raised in secrecy by Maleficent and Killian is a rouge Forest Ranger with a special power.

The black furred blue-eyed wolf jumps out of the woods without warning and lands gracefully on the path in front of Emma startling both her and her familiar Mephistopheles. Emma falls easily into a defensive stance should the wolf actually attack her, but the cunning raven that usually graces her shoulder has turned himself into a scared white rabbit at her feet, in his state of shock. It is a natural reaction to Emma’s surprise but an embarrassing one none the less.

The wolf doesn’t attack though and Emma can hear someone stomping their way through the underbrush. The man who emerges from the dense forest, with three day old stubble and murderous intent in his sharp blue eyes, looks no less wild than the wolf that preceded him. His current rage marring his possibly good-looking features, his anger isn’t directed at Emma though but the wolf standing between them.

“Hermia, so help me, I will…” he roars, raking his hands through his already dishevelled hair, as though he had every intention of pulling it from his scalp.

Emma never finds out what he intends to do to the wolf because it’s at this point his intense blue gaze lands on her. They stand frozen for a moment just staring at each other, and Emma feels like she’s under inspection. The man and wolf in front of her remind Emma of her mentor, Maleficent and her Familiar Diablo. They are a well-oiled machine and run together smoothly, instinctually knowing what the other needs before they ask.

The man is not an Enchanter though, nor is he a mere traveling merchant as he would have spectators believe. He is dressed in black leather breeches and doublet with a grey traveling cloak hastily thrown over top. He carries a lone sack on his back and a sheathed hunting dagger sits in his belt. He seems momentarily stunned by her appearance on this otherwise deserted woodland path and does a double take to see if she really is alone.

Emma Wills Mephisto to turn into anything other than a timid rabbit and he reverts to his standard white raven form, and flies to perch on her shoulder. It was a bit unsettling the first time he took form but Emma has grown used to his unusual colouring. The fact that her green eyes look out at her is less unnerving. Familiars are the physical embodiment of an Enchanters magical ability and can shift form depending on what their caster is feeling. The most common permanent forms are that of _Aves_ or _Felidae_.  

“My Lady” says the stranger before her and he bows low, hand over heart, startling her again.

“I am not a royal” she spits disgusted and it’s his turn to look startled.

“Forgive me, my mistake” he apologizes, but a coy smile plays at the corner of his lips and Emma has the distinct feeling he is hiding something from her.  

“That would explain why you have no traveling companion” he says, checking to see if the path really is deserted in both directions. Brambles cling to his garments courtesy of the scrub and Emma is itching to pluck them off.

The she-wolf growls at her master and he lets loose a howl of laughter at whatever the message was she conveyed.

“Forgive me” he said copying his earlier bow, “apparently I’ve been rude, Killian Jones at your service.”

“You’re a Ranger” Emma accuses, Maleficent has told her all about the outside world, even if she didn’t get to see much of it growing up. Rangers are neither good nor evil, they exist only to keep the peace between kingdoms and uphold Forrest Law. Each Ranger is paired with a Wolf Guide at an early age so the two can grow and learn together to become one with the forest.

Emma watches intently as Killian’s face goes through a series of contortions. She sees the moment he thinks about concocting a lie, and knows when he settlings on telling the truth, or at least part of it.

“Rogue Ranger, actually” he confesses, it explains why he is alone, even people as solitary as Rangers often are found in pairs, it has to do with the wolves and Pack mentality. Rangers form close emotional bonds with their Wolf Guides that includes a mental link, it is one of the differences between Wolf Guides and Familiars. Rangers can understand and interpret every growl and whimper the animal noises turning to words inside their heads. Familiars speak with actual words when communicating with their Enchanter but can converse with any animal weather or not they are mimicking that species.

Emma considers for a moment what Killian has told her, it means he has broken Forrest Law in some way, he’s done something serious enough to be exiled from The Pack. Exiles are usually temporary, depending on the severity of the crime the length of exile is determined, ranging anywhere from a few months to several years. It would be rude to ask.

Hermia, Killian’s Wolf Guide now sits patiently in the middle of the road equidistant between the two humans though she hungrily eyes the raven perched on Emma’s shoulder. She makes a low growling noise Emma can scarcely hear she expects Killian to interpret but it becomes unnecessary when Mephisto gives a shriek of alarm.

“She wants me to turn back into a rabbit so she can eat me” he cries flapping his wings in panic.

Killian laughs a little at that before noticing the glare he is receiving from Emma.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “it’s been a while since we’ve eaten.” Hermia licks her muzzle exaggeratedly in agreement.

Emma’s own tummy rumbles in sympathy her tracking skills are superb but her archery needs work and the bow slung over her shoulder has been idle these past few days, relying on berries and stale bread for nutrients.

Emma catches Killian watching her oddly and realizes he too is eyeing the bow.

“You think we have a better chance if we hunt together?” Emma asks reading his thoughts.

“I would be honoured to hunt with you, should you be willing to introduce yourself to me” he chides back.

Emma had no intentions of coming off as rude to this stranger by with-holding her personal information she simply was leery of him, and his wolf, but he had a point and Emma felt herself conceding.

“Emma Swan, Enchanter” she introduced herself, folding at the waist over her arm.

“This is Mephistopheles, my Familiar” she continues bringing her hand up and smoothing out the ruffled feathers on top of his head. Mostly, but not always Familiars took form in the opposite gender of their wielder and no matter what animal form they took always reflected the tone of the Enchanter’s magic, Mephisto would always appear as something white because Emma’s magic was pure. The most common colour for a Familiar was black but that did not necessarily mean the Enchanter was evil.

Part of the myth surrounding Familiars implied they were not only embodiments of one’s magic but actually part of their soul, linked by an invisible thread of various colours to their Enchanter. The different colours each reveal something about the Enchanter, Red for loyalty, Purple for betrayal, Blue for honesty, or Gold for royalty. As these threads could not been seen there was no way of knowing for sure what colour bound you, or if the tread even existed at all.

“Does he always look like that?” Killian asks.

“He is a white raven” Emma confirms in Mephisto’s defence, “yes.”

“Can’t you Will him into something else, it’s a little unnerving.” It’s rude of Killian to ask and Emma starts to second guess accepting his offer of help.

“I _could_ ” she says dryly, “but I won’t.” She’s loath to admit it but Willing your Familiar to change shape can take a lot of work, especially if your heart isn’t in it.  

“Which way then Swan?” Killian asks.

For Emma there is only one path, she can’t go back the way she’s come so she points onwards, straight down the path she is already on. They start off down the path together, Emma and Killian with Hermia keeping pace beside them and Mephistopheles flying off ahead. Sometimes Hermia will track further on then double back to them, reporting her observations to Killian, who in turn relays them to Emma.

Only once do they have to abandon the main road and seek refuge in the shade of the forests edge. A patrol of Queen Regina’s Paladins forces them into hiding while the knights scourer the forest on the opposite side of the road. Emma was warned about the Queen by Maleficent who has placed a terrible curse on the land.

Though Emma is reluctant to admit it, they work well as a team, the wolf and the raven. She tells herself to believe it has nothing to do with their personalities. After two days they have their first successful kill, between Emma’s top notch tracking abilities and Killian’s marksmanship the yearling stag didn’t stand a chance. Emma watches in somber silence as Killian says a hunter’s prayer over their kill, it is the first warm meat Emma has had in ages.

That night sitting around the fire a feeling of satisfaction comes over Emma.

“Thank you, Killian” she says, startling her traveling companion from his thoughts.

“Whatever for?” he asks, honestly.

“For this meal, we owe you now” she insists.

“No, you owe me nothing” Emma can here the hesitation in his voice, it’s there whenever he speaks to her, as if he is not quite sure how to address her.

~~~

Mephistopheles can no longer be idle, Emma has been struck and Hermia was the one who came to her aid. As soon as he takes off from his perch in the tree Mephisto can feel himself change and in one smooth motion feathers shift to fur as he lands gracefully right in front of Killian, his talons sinking into the muddy ground. Mephistopheles feels big and awkward, even as he ferociously snaps his teeth at the threat. Emma must be feeling a protective kinship with their new allies, a sense of pack; because he can feel it in his bones Mephisto is now a giant white wolf. He is a foot longer and head taller than Hermia, he can tell even from here, and he feels powerful. The feeling of being a wolf is one of power and he radiates that power back to Emma, kicking her into high gear, it’s their turn to show off.

When it’s over Hermia has a long and bloody scar across her muzzle and Killian’s face looks the same. Emma boils water over a hastily made fire in the borrowed hearth soaking strips of a tunic she ripped up. The hut is quiet as they settle in for the night, only the bubbling from the pot dares to make its presence known.

“Hold still” Emma says to a twitchy Killian as she tries to dab at his cuts with the hot, wet cloth.

His response is to hiss in pain as the cloth connects with one of the deeper cuts.

Hermia is curled up in the darkest corner of the room and Mephisto seeks her out there, he is still a wolf, and will remain as such until Emma Wills him to change or he falls asleep. He is her familiar and that means reflecting what she is feeling on the inside, even if she doesn’t want to face it.

“Thank you, for protecting Emma today” he says to her in hushed tones, “you didn’t have to.”

At that she raises her head and looks at him quizzically as if only seeing him for the first time.

“Of course I did, I was compelled to.” She admits, she doesn’t sound bitter, like he thought she would.

“Compelled?” he asks not really understanding.

She rolls her eyes conveying an emotion that is not frustrated, there is softness to her eyes and if it wasn’t Hermia he might say, it was lovingly.

“When the attackers approached Killian Compelled me to protect Emma because he was unable to, he _forced_ me to act on his behalf. It is a silent command given to Wolf Guides by their Ranger’s that cannot be refused.” She explained.

Mephistopheles likens it to changing at Emma’s will. “Do you have to obey every command he gives you?” he asks and the question rather lacks tack of any sort.

“No, only if it is a Compelling.” She rests her head back on her paws and exhales a heavy sigh.

Driven by wolf instinct Mephisto feels compelled himself to lie down next to Hermia and protect her anyway he can. He shifts uncomfortably before stepping forward and tentatively licking his rough tongue across her scared muzzle.

She gives a weak whine in response to the initial sting but otherwise puts forth no protest. Taking that for consent Mephistopheles lies down next to her and continues to lick away her blood.

Satisfied with herself Emma declares Killian to be free of her charge. There is only so much she can do, but with regular cleaning the cuts on his face should heal fine. She remembers how wild looking he had first appeared to her, if he had those scars then she thinks she might have run the other way.

“You should take the bed” Emma says, pointing to the humble cot.

At the same time Killian says “I’ll take the floor.”

Emma looks away from his intense gaze, she knows Killian was only trying to be a gentleman but he is injured and even a lumpy pile of hay is better than bare wooden floor.

“You can have the bed, I insist” Killian makes his final plea before going to curl up by the blazing fire.

“The bed is not so small” Emma begins timidly, “we can share.” She tries to sound nonchalant, make it seem like it is not a big deal.

She thinks she hears Killian make a choking sound that turns into a cough, and she’s thankful that he cannot see her face. She suddenly feels too warm.

“If you insist” he replies trying to remain modest, but a crooked grin plays at the corner of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rumple's familiar is a Brown Owl named Archimedes, Regina has a Black Panther, and Zelena has a Bengal Tiger.   
> Ruby, Charming, Robin Hood, Will Scarlet, and Little John are all Ranger's.   
> If you haven't guessed Killian has the ability to see the line connecting Enchanters to their familiars, he knows Emma is a royal even if she doesn't. What he doesn't know is she is the long lost princess needed to break the curse.   
> Mephistopheles will turn in to a Snow Leopard when fighting Regina and Zelena's familiars.


	6. Entomology- Strange Magic AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are so many stories of Human Marianne meeting The Bog King I wanted one with a Human Bog meeting Fairy Marianne. And you know what they say, "if you can't find it, write it yourself." Fairy Princess Marianne finds herself falling in love with a human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for language in this one, Bog curses himself out.

Princess Marianne of the Fairies had been watching the human come to her field for months now, ever since the last of the winter snows melted and her kingdom had emerged from hibernation. At first he, for she had discovered the human was the male of his species, had come alone, but for many weeks now he had brought a companion. She, her sister Dawn and their Elf friend Sunny had stumbled across the happy couple by accident one day when flying through the field in a bid to escape a very angry lizard.

Dawn and Sunny had lost interest after a few times of seeing them but Marianne was absolutely fascinated by the strange beings. The humans were both similar and different to Fairies. She had immediately felt a kinship with the human taking an ownership of him as she had nothing else. When she thought of him, which was often; she thought of him as “My Human” and the female companion as _his_ mate.

Today her human had come alone again. At first she watched him from afar waiting for the female to appear but she never came. The human stretched out his long form, like a fallen tree and lay down in the grass. Her burning need for adventure and curiosity that could not be satisfied had Marianne moving closer. Maybe if he fell asleep she could examine him closer. She fluttered between the Primroses closer and closer to her destination.

Bog King had been having a terrible few days. After almost a year of talking to a girl online they had finally decided to meet in person. That had been back in May it was now Mid-July. Things had been going great, so great in fact it was only a matter of time before he royally _fucked_ up and fuck up he did. In a moment of impetuousness he _fucking_ proposed. He was such a dunce. Apparently what they’d been doing wasn’t ‘dating’ but just ‘hanging out.’ She quickly explained she wasn’t interested in him in that way and that was it. As quickly as she had come into his life she was gone. Leaving him sad and alone yet again, only this time he wouldn’t be played for the fool. This time he would make sure to never fall in love again.

Returning to the field wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. They had spent so many carefree afternoons here Bog had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of it. The truth was though the field had been _his_ before it was _theirs_ so returning alone felt like coming home in a strange way. The field was full of shady trees, little streams, and a variety of flowers as far as the eye could see. The most wonderful thing though was the butterflies. The butterflies were a calming presence every time he saw them his heart gave a little flutter of joy especially the strange purple one. Insects had always captivated him that’s why he’d become an entomologist but in all his years of study he’d never come across one like that before.

 Bog closed his eyes as he lay in the field soaking in the rays of the afternoon sun, his face shaded by the winding branches of an oak. He scratched absently at his rough cheek now covered with two day old stubble then swatted at his beaky nose as he felt a bug land there. It worked for a minute but the bug returned and he rubbed at his nose again shooing the little pest away. When he felt something settle against his nose for a third time Bog opened his eyes and was surprised to see his little purple butterfly. The broad wings lay out brushing his cheek ever so slightly.

“Well hello there” he rumbled, going cross eyed to look at the fragile creature.

He suddenly went very still the thing on his nose was _not_ a butterfly. It had arms that lay crossed over the bridge of his nose and a tiny head rested on those little arms. It smiled at him and big hazel eyes stared back at him.

“Hello” it said back, and he fainted.


	7. Intermission- Sherlock/ Doctor Who/ Merlin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write an AU where all these characters attend school together and perform Musicals. This is their program for their graduating year a kind of "the best of the best" or "Favourites." I may write a "backstage" portion to this story. Otherwise it's basically a list of what songs I could see these characters singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following is the program for the combined graduating class of Saint Bartholomew's Preparatory (an all boys boarding school) and their sister school Avalon Ladies Academy. Please turn off your mobile's during the performance and enjoy the show.

St. Bartholomew’s Prep. & Avalon Ladies Academy

Are pleased to present;

A Night on Broadway

“Master of the House” - _Les Miserables_ sung by Philip Anderson as Monsieur Thénardier ; Sally Donovan as Madame Thénardier ; Chorus

“Little Priest” - _Sweeny Todd_ sung by John Watson as Sweeny Todd; Irene Adler as Mrs. Lovett  

“Pretty Woman” - _Sweeny Todd_ sung by John Watson as Sweeny Todd; Sherlock Holmes as Judge Turpin

“Rum Tum Tugger” - _Cats_ sung by Arthur Pendragon as Rum Tum Tugger; Chorus

“Mr. Mistoffelees” - _Cats_ sung by Arthur Pendragon as Rum Tum Tugger; Merlin Emerys as Mr. Mistoffelees

“I am what I am” - _La Cage aux Follies_ sung by Jack Harkness as Zaza

_~Intermission~_

“Cell Block Tango” - _Chicago_ sung by Morgana Pendragon as Velma Kelly; Gwen Smith as Liz; Mary Morstan as Annie; Sally Donovan as June; Sarah Sawyer as Hunyak; Irene Adler as Mona

“We both reached for the Gun”- _Chicago_ sung by Jim Moriarty as Billy Flynn; Molly Hooper as Roxie Hart; Kitty Riley as Mary Sunshine

“Tomorrow” - _Annie_ sung by Gwen Smith as Annie

“Easy Street” - _Annie_ sung by Irene Adler as Miss. Hannigan; Jim Moriarty as Rooster Hannigan; Molly Hooper as Lily St. Regis

Dedications

“Can you hear the people Sing” - _Les Miserables_ sung by Ensemble

 

Special thanks to Mrs. Hudson, Singing Instructor; Professor Deka, Orchestra Conductor; Uther Pendragon St. Bart’s Head Master, Donna Noble Avalon Academy’s Head Mistress; Gregory Lestrade, light and sound technician; Speedy’s Café; Cross Key’s Inn; and you!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Deka is of course the Tenth Doctor, it too is his last year teaching at St. Bart's and the students drag him up on stage during the "Dedications" portion to sing the Major-General song. You can head David Tenant sing it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ER5hQi-QeqY


	8. American Revolution AU- OUAT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma Cassidy is a single mother on the run from the war torn 13 Colonies. Believing her husband Neil to be dead, Emma flees Boston with their son Henry to seek refuge, first in Halifax, and then Lunenburg Nova Scotia. A quiet fishing community where she seeks employment as a house keeper for two brothers. She is also following a lead to find her dead husband's estranged father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this ages ago (at least two years) and then was trying to make it all historically accurate, got bogged down in research and gave up. I'm happy(ish) with this as a first chapter but I still don't have a title. This was always supposed to be the third part of my "I will always find you" series.   
> Any way I hope you all enjoy this meet cute, even if I never write anything else for this AU at least I got the beginning up.

OUAT- Historical AU

_September 1776, the Thirteen Colonies are at war. Those loyal to the Crown had already begun fleeing north. During this time the British Colony of Nova Scotia, which at that time included New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and part of northern Maine, remained neutral._

_Lunenburg, Nova Scotia_

Killian Jones’ head was pounding. He had fallen asleep, _passed-out drunk_ , in the most uncomfortable faded chair in the sitting room. It must be nigh on noon he thought, but the room was still dark, the heavy curtains pulled shut. He was in mourning. The large home seemed empty and cold now. There was a biting chill in the air signaling the start of autumn. Killian groaned and shifted his position, intending to fall into oblivion yet again when the pounding came again.

It was followed by a shout, “Mr. Jones! Mr. Jones are you in there?”

Killian rested his heavy head in his hands. He wanted to make it stop. Would the voices _ever_ stop?

Someone pulled the rope by the front door causing a gong to echo throughout the house. Killian jumped to his feet in surprise, the voices weren’t imaginary. He wasn’t hearing things, not this time anyway. He dashed to the door eager to tell whoever was there they should go away and leave him to his misery. The sight on the other side of the door made him pause to reconsider, after all misery loves company. 

It was a woman, a busty blonde if her shape was anything to go by. The look on her face was one of frustration and worry. She wasn’t a local her traveling cloak was enough to inform him of this; she had come from the city. The majority of her hair was piled under her bonnet but one stray curl had come loose, and it was a lovely shade of gold.   

Wrenching the door open and managing to keep his guts down Killian addressed the spectre before him,  

“Hello luv, how may I be of assistance to you?”

The woman was startled by his sudden appearance no doubt having figured no one was home, or maybe it was his dishevelled appearance from sleeping in the armchair, or the fact he spent the last few days trying to drown himself in rum. Either way she took a moment to collect her thoughts. 

“Are you?” the woman inspected a piece of parchment she held in her kid-glove covered hand, “Jones, Captain Liam Jones of His Majesty’s Royal Navy?”

Killian thought about lying, he could have a good time with this one but there was something off about the situation and he did not want to take responsibility for one of his brother’s mistakes. 

“Sorry luv, wrong Jones’ brother.” Killian replied dryly. 

“Oh, well is your brother available? I should like to speak with him.” She seemed to have recovered from her earlier shock.

Damn this broad was persistent. 

“Actually, you just missed him” Killian quirked his lips at the grave humour,  and leaned against the door frame casually. He needed to for the support.

“May I wait here until he returns?” The blonde spoke, her boldness caught him off guard. A harsh bite to her words.

“I _am_ sorry but that’s not possible” Killian said sharply, his tone darkening. He was done with this game.

“I- I don’t understand. Your brother and I have a standing appointment for today. Now I realise he may not have told you I was expected, but-”

“Last week” Killian edged out softly cutting off her plea, unable to keep the lie up any longer. 

“Pardon?” she asked, confused.

 “My brother, he died, last week.” Killian said with a note of finality, be damned this woman and her sensibilities. 

The woman let out a small but audible gasp and quickly brought a hand up to cover her mouth. For one perilous moment Killian thought she was going to cry and be damned if he was going to having a crying woman on his front porch. Even if she was pretty with her round pale face and bright green eyes.

“Of course” she said matter-of-factly, perfectly maintaining her composure. 

“I am sorry for the loss of your brother Mr. Jones, but you see I came here all the way from Halifax,” realising she wasn’t gaining his sympathy Emma changed course.

“Your brother had placed an advert in the Gazette” she boldly stated, pulling loose the newsprint clipping she had kept, “looking for a house keeper, I applied for the position and he accepted. We never met but-”

Again Killian cut her off his words coming out in shock, “he was looking for a house keeper?” Liam had never mentioned this to him.

“Yes, we exchanged several letters and in them he mentioned how he, and you, were in the Navy and gone for long periods of time. He said he would rest easy knowing someone was here to look after the house while he was away.”

“That does sound like something my brother would say” Killian agreed accepting the papers the woman at the door handed him. 

“Unfortunately your services are no longer required” Killian said dryly, handing them back to her.

“What? But won’t _you_ be going away still?” She asked, a mixture of hurt and anger crossing her features.  

“Honorably discharged” Killian sneered at her, “good day, Miss?”

“Cassidy, Mrs. Emma Cassidy. Please, Mr. Jones I am a widow with a small boy, I have nowhere else to go.” Emma pleaded.

“There’s an inn up the street, I suggest you start there” Killian was agitated now; he wanted this woman gone from his property. 

“I left everything behind for this, to start a new life _here_ , please have mercy Mr. Jones; you don’t have to pay me.” Emma was beyond desperate, “I will cook your meals and clean the house, all I ask in return is for a roof and a bed for my son and me.” 

Her voice wobbled and Killian thought she was threating tears again. He was still adamant on refusing her lodging when a lad of about twelve came to stand beside the woman.

“Is this our new home mother?” the boy asked implo

imploringly.

Killian could see the light in the lad’s eyes, he was no doubt dreaming of running around the large open field playing at being a knight or a pirate. Killian’s father had passed away when he was four and his mother never remarried, she died shortly before his tenth birthday. Killian had been an orphan by the time he was this boy’s age and suddenly had an overwhelming feeling grip hold of him. He could be a father type to this young lad.

“I am afraid not my love, there was a misunderstanding. Isn’t that right Mr. Jones?” Mrs. Cassidy asked turning her attention from her son and back to Killian.

“What’s your name lad?” Killian asked kneeling in front of the child.

“Henry, Sir, Henry Cassidy” he answered politely, “you sound funny, where are you from?” Henry asked and his mother looked like she might faint from her son’s rudeness.

Killian gave a hearty laugh, one he no longer thought he was capable of making before answering, “I’m from Ireland, and you sound funny to me boy, where are you from Henry?”

“Boston” Henry answered promptly, “We’re loyalists.” 

“Shh, Henry, be polite” the lad’s mother warned him.  

She looked about to make sure no one else was nearby, who could have overheard them.

Killian felt a new stab of sympathy strike him, they _had_ made a perilous journey to be here.   

“If my services are not required I shall take my leave of you Mr. Jones and we’ll be on our way.” Mrs. Cassidy’s grip tightened on her boy’s hand and Killian saw she made to leave him to his peace. 

Quickly he reconsidered. Killian couldn’t remember the last meal he ate. He’d been living off rum since he received notice of Liam’s death, nor had he washed up. Killian ran his hand thoughtfully along his bearded chin. The house could use a woman’s touch, Killian thought, and the lad, Henry seemed like a smart boy. Mind made up Killian cleared his throat.

“Actually Mrs. Cassidy, if you’d like to step inside we could further discus you’re employment.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's awful but I always thought Killian's "you just missed him" was really funny... or maybe that was just Killian thinking he was being clever.... using humour as a way to deal with his grief.


	9. Werewolf AU- Strange Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this December 2015 and it seems a shame that while I haven't worked on it more, that it's sitting on my computer unread. I had high hopes for this AU, so here it is.   
> This is in no way connected to my Halloween one-shot "Trick or Treat" however just like in that fic Bog transforms into a Eurasian Grey Wolf and Marianne a Red Wolf.

Marianne could not get the image of the large Grey Wolf with the strange blue eyes out of her head. 

After discovering Roland’s betrayal she had run, run out into the cool spring night and shifted under the light of the nearly full moon. The last of winter’s snow still covered the ground and she indulged in it the way a pup might. She caught the scent of a hare and took off in pursuit the baser instincts of her nature cancelling out the human part of her brain that didn’t want to eat rabbit raw and wake up in the morning with a bloody mouth. 

Stretching her muscles like this was invigorating the burn unlike any workout she could get in human form. For three nights a month she got to run and be free under the stars and moon. Wild and untamed like her ancestors. 

Blindly she followed the scent trail of the hare unaware she was crossing enemy lines. She ran through a small cluster of trees and out into the expanse of someone’s _amazing_ backyard. It was landscaped to the nines, with large flower beds currently empty, a perfectly manicured hedge ran along one side of the iron fence, an artfully placed tree stump, and one large water fountain. The house was huge, its shadow falling across her even at this distance. That was when two piercing blue eyes looked out from the shadow and she caught the scent of wolf. 

 _Not one of the pack_ , she thought. He was large, even for a male wolf and his snout was elongated. She was caught between wanting to submit to the domineering snarl he emitted and taking a defensive stance to hold her ground. In the end she compromised, growling in displeasure at his appearance and defiantly turning away. He could have attacked her at any time, especially if the house was his home, turning her back on him was a rookie mistake, an invitation for a fight. 

Instead of possibly starting a territory war Bog watched the slighter wolf stalk off seemingly non-pulsed by his presence. He had never seen another wolf like her; for she had been female he could still smell her scent in the air. He didn’t think he would soon forget the night he met the wolf with golden eyes.  

~~***~~  

6 Months Later

Marianne knocked on the apartment door with some mild trepidation. Dawn had warned her Mr. King was a very important client and that he was doing this as a favour. His kindness should not be taken advantage of. There was a brief moment of some shouting coming from inside the apartment.

“What?” came the snarled greeting when the man himself answered the door. Half-dressed and half shaved. 

“Mr. King?” Marianne asked extending her hand, “I’m Marianne Faye, Dawn’s sister.” She added when he failed to recognize her introduction. Her professional smile faltered slightly as her hand still hung in the air.  

Marianne didn’t know his exact age but she placed him under forty although grey streaked his mossy brown hair. It had been gelled back from his face making his mug appear even longer than it was from his wide forehead to the tip of his narrow chin. He had unruly eyebrows and a large sloping nose. His lips were thin and his eyes were a piercing familiar blue. Where had she seen eyes like that before?  

Her face fell further, “She did tell you I was coming, did she not?” Marianne asked concerned, Dawn could be scattered brained about somethings but when it came to running her business she was always sharp.

“Marianne, of course” he said slowly, blinking his eyes as if waking up from a dream. “Please, come in.”

He held the door open wide enough for her to enter then promptly closed it again behind her.

She let loose a low whistle, impressed with the living space. She had known The Forest Heights apartment complex was a swanky place to live. Her and Roland and briefly considered moving in there together but that was before everything had fallen apart.  

Large windows ran along the south side of the living room letting in copious amounts of natural light. The room was painted in a light grey, black leather furniture dotted the landscape, and red and white were used for accent colours.  It wasn’t Dawn’s usual pallet but she did what was needed to please the client. The coffee table was a highly polished piece of wood, not a wooden table Marianne noted but an actual section of a tree.  

So enraptured with the room was Marianne that she didn’t notice that Mr. King was appraising her in a similar way. He was still trying to figure out how this petite dark-haired woman could be any relation to Dawn Fleeting. Dawn radiated an infectious joy that left him annoyed in her presence but she was a smart woman and knew her trade. Mr. King was an art and antiques dealer who owned several stores in the city and Dawn was an interior designer and decorator who co-owned a florist shop with her husband Sunny. Dawn had singlehandedly and painstakingly set up every one of his stores then proceeded to redecorate his apartment. She was a successful business woman and he respected her and her trade. Without her help his business might not have took off as it did. 

The last time they had spoken Dawn had proceeded to abuse his ears with a tragic story about her sister who after having an argument with their father quit her job and thus lost her apartment. Now she was sleeping on Sunny and Dawn’s fold out couch and in serious need of a job to get her back on her feet. In a moment of weakness and a bid to just make her shut up he had offered to hire her sister as a maid. It wasn’t that he needed one, for a single man he kept his apartment fairly tidy, but it was the right thing to do. Dawn had thanked him profusely, hugged him to death, and then sang his praises.

“You won’t regret this, Mr. King.” She had said with one of her beaming smiles, he hoped she was right. 


End file.
